


White Out

by Venturous



Series: There's Still Time [2]
Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Crossover, Gen, Harry Potter References, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:19:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venturous/pseuds/Venturous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NOTE: this fic is now updated, complete and included in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4566828">There's Still Time</a></p><p>What happens next is a bit of a shock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Out

A blinding light was boring its way through his closed eyelids, and Walter White thought:

_OK. I’m really dead._

He blinked and his vision swam into focus. White. White was all he could see: white floors, walls, pillars. He struggled to sit up, finding himself on a white stone bench.

_What the hell? Wait, is this Hell?_

_Wait a minute, If I’m thinking, I can’t really be dead._

He pushed himself to a sitting position, wobbling, and felt his face for his glasses. There. Then in a moment of panic he looked at his bloody shirt. Clean. He felt his side, fine. Healed.

Walter closed his eyes, waiting for the dream to resolve, the real end to come. He was a scientist. He didn’t believe in the afterlife, especially not being greeted by angels in the light at the end of the tunnel. Last thing he remembered was being mortally wounded.

“No doubt this is a peculiar experience for you, Walter.”

A resonant voice, somewhat laconic, startled him out of his meditation. He risked opening his eyes.

And saw a very old, very odd man sitting next to him. He wore an ornate purple cap and half moon glasses perched on his long nose.

Walt’s mouth was hanging open.

“It’s alright, my boy, you can breathe.”

The man’s eyes twinkled as he smiled gently. Walt took in the flowing white hair and beard.

“What the… who are you? Gandalf?”

The old man chuckled.

“Excellent hypothesis, Walter. He may very well be kin, but my name is Albus, Professor Albus Dumbledore. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The old man extended his elegant hand, bejeweled with rings, in formal greeting.

“Come now, Walter, I know you have good manners, when you want to.”

The improbable man actually winked. Walter sighed, accepted the proffered palm, and felt what certainly seemed solid flesh as he gripped the man’s hand.

“I can tell you have questions. Let us walk.”

Standing, the white-haired man was remarkable tall, but Walt was learning not to be surprised by every detail. Long robes of violet and silver trailed on the marble floor behind ‘Albus.’

Albus. Doesn’t that translate as 'white'? Walter pondered.

“Yes, my boy, excellent, you’re recalling your schooling, that is most excellent. But what we must discuss, Walter, what you will decide.”

Tired of riddles, Walt shook his head, as if that would make the dream go away. He ran his hand through his hair. He still had hair, good. He sighed.

“What are you talking about? Decide what?”  
“Why, which way will you choose?” Albus looked down at him fondly, as if to encourage a befuddled student.

This time it was Albus who sighed. This one might take some work.

“Walter, in a short while a train will arrive, and you must decide whether you will board the train, or stay here. Do you understand?”

Walt felt his mind sharpening, just a bit.

“Well, depends, Professor, doesn’t it? Where is the train going?”

_May as well play along._

“That’s up to you, son.“

Walt startled at that. His father had been gone for years, and no one had treated him with paternal warmth is quite some time. It was a strange feeling. He was used to being in charge. He was the father, the boss, the mastermind.

He didn't see the sad quirk of Dumbledore’s mouth.

He was startled by the change in the light, and a rising sound. A train really was approaching. Walt’s heart sped up.

“That way, life. With all it’s pleasures, and terrors. And consequences.”

“And if I stay here, is there a different train?”

“That’s unclear, son. There could be, but it’s unusual. Or you might just walk a while, in the light. Until it goes out.

“What is clear though, is that if you want to board that train, the price is love. And, you need to leave that here.”

The tall wizard was looking at him seriously now. No twinkle, no amusement.

Walter began to ask ‘what?’ when he realized he was wearing his hat. Heisenberg’s hat.

“This?” he lifted it off his skull and stared at it in his hands. He had a clear memory of the moment he first put it on, how it gave him courage.

“It was never the hat, Walter.”

It seemed that Dumbldore was whispering to him, so softly.

The train drew closer, roaring now, it’s light brighter than all the whiteness around them. It bleached the color out of the wizard’s robes and face. The hat remained impenetrably black.

Suddenly repulsed, Walt threw it, like a Frisbee, under the front of the train. A shower of sparks went up, the brakes grabbed and the squeal of steel on steel seemed to vibrate the entire station. He looked in alarm at the Professor, who stood looking out as if over a great distance, his hair floating in the moving air.

Then, silence. Train still, the door slid open with a tiny whoosh, and the luminous interior beckoned.

When Walt turned to say goodbye the wizard was no longer there.

xxxxx


End file.
